


Frozen Bridges

by sv_you_know_who_I_am



Series: A Court of War and Starlight One-Shots [8]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 20:15:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7236889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sv_you_know_who_I_am/pseuds/sv_you_know_who_I_am
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elain and Lucien get up to some mischief before attempting to win over the High Lord of Winter as an ally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frozen Bridges

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the Winter Court, right after Chapter 43 in “A Court of War and Starlight,” my ACOTAR 3 fan fiction. This fic is a companion to ACOWAS and is quite tied to the plot, so it may be confusing out of context. But, if you simply want some steamy Elucien and some hurt/comfort, you’ll get it here!

 

He was losing his Cauldron-damned mind.

It had been an ordinary dinner. Stately, refined, as meals in the Winter Court generally were. It masked the intense frustration they all felt at the halt in negotiations. Everyone chattered pleasantly as though Kallias _hadn’t_ almost given Lucien frostbite earlier, and the wine and food flowed freely around the table. Elain looked radiant, as always, the whites and silvers of the Winter Court suiting her complexion. She sat beside Lucien, her hand on his thigh, idly running her thumb back and forth. He was sure she didn’t know the effect that had on him, but he certainly didn’t want to tell her to stop.

She smiled pleasantly and caught the attention of all of Kallias’s courtiers, bantering with them as easily as though she’d been born to it. But as the meal wore on, Lucien noticed a small pout tugging at the corner of her soft mouth, though she did not appear to be upset about anything. She cast a sideways glance at him and smiled shyly. Lucien raised his hand and brushed some of her golden hair behind her ear. She let out a little huff and looked away, but the smile remained on her face.

It was only another minute or so before Elain looked at him again, brow furrowed, and said, “I need to talk with you about something . . . alone.”

The next thing Lucien knew, he was being pulled into the corridor by his mate, her small hand tugging his insistently. He tried to catch her eye, to find out what was troubling her, but she said nothing as she led him into the abandoned corridor, ducking into a shadowy corner away from the main traffic path. “Is everything all right, sweet?” he asked.

His blood grew warm as she pressed herself against him and kissed him softly on the lips. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” she breathed against his mouth. “I just . . . we needed to get out of there.”

“Did someone say something to you?” Lucien had done his best to catch everything said to his mate, but he might have missed something. If someone had said something to hurt her . . .

Elain laughed quietly. “No. I just . . .” She kissed him again and let out a little whimper against his lips. That, added to the stroking she’d already been doing beneath the table, was enough to make him want her, crave her--right here.

He hadn’t expected her to have the same idea.

Her lovely brown eyes fixed on his as she dragged her hand down the length of his torso and knelt before him. He stared down at her, open-mouthed, as her other hand joined the first and slowly--too slowly--began undoing the laces of his breeches. “Elain,” he croaked. “Everyone--”

“I don’t care,” she growled, her fingers working quicker.

And Lucien threw his head back against the wall with a _thud_ as Elain put her mouth on him. _Shit_. This _woman_. Lucien’s pulse ratched up and his fingers gripped blindly at the wall behind him, though there was nothing to hold. He wanted to moan, wanted to let her know how _perfect_ she was, but then they would risk being caught. Though that made it all the more thrilling.

Through the bursts of ecstasy Lucien tried to remember if she’d mentioned doing this before. No, she hadn’t done it with him, and she certainly hadn’t done it with anyone else before him. She could have fooled him, so expertly did she swirl her tongue around him, stroke him, make him want to beg.

He choked on the groan that wanted to escape and settled for letting out a long huff from between his lips. “Elain,” he ground out. “Cauldron boil me, _Elain_.”

She pulled away for a horrible moment to hold her finger to her lips. “Shh,” she scolded. “There are people on the other side of that wall, Lucien.” Then she winked at him and resumed her work.

They’d been together plenty by now, in the five days since they had mated. Lucien had almost been late to a very important meeting with Kallias and Akihiro because Elain had looked so _perfect_ tangled in their sheets that morning--he hadn’t been able to resist showing her just how perfect. And she had surprised him several times, demonstrating her own eagerness for him on multiple occasions--including this one.

His nails scraped the wall as he grit his teeth. But it wasn’t until Elain reached up and stroked him once along his pelvis with her finger that he went over the edge. He panted as the tension in his body released, and he had barely glanced back at his mate before she had a napkin ready for both of them, stolen from the dining table.

She’d been _planning_. All that time, his sweet, innocent mate had been planning how to get him off.

Elain helped him put himself back together, and then she stood and nuzzled her head against his chest. “Was that good?” she murmured. She grew a flower Lucien didn’t recognize on her palm and squeezed aromatic oil from its petals--covering the scent of their deed.

“Yes,” Lucien rasped. “I . . . let me . . .” He reached for her, but she ducked nimbly out of the way.

“Later, sir,” she crooned. “We both know I make far too much noise.”

Lucien’s blood boiled again. “How did you know? About . . .” He gestured to his pelvis, referring to the final stroke she’d given him--his weakness.

A mischievous smile lit Elain’s face. “Masaru told me,” she said casually, shrugging one shoulder.

Lucien’s face went bright red as he thought of the Winter Prince. Clearly, Masaru remembered their history better than Lucien had given him credit for. “That doesn’t . . . that doesn’t bother you, does it?”

“Why should it?” Elain asked. “I wasn’t even born yet.”

Lucien chuckled and tucked her arm in his. “But thank the Mother you were,” he murmured. He kissed her cheek once before guiding her back in the dinner, where they both resumed their seats as though nothing had happened at all.

No one remarked on their absence. Elain was completely unflustered, as though she hadn’t been making him lose his mind mere minutes ago. He certainly wasn’t going to give them away. But as he looked across the table at the Winter Prince, Masaru grinned and winked at him. Lucien raised his eyebrow as if to say, “I have no idea what you mean.”

Masaru just shook his head and grinned and didn’t say a word about it the rest of the night.

-

The next morning, Lucien blinked away the bright winter morning sun that streamed through their window, throwing an arm over his eyes to block it out for a moment more. Elain was nestled against his bare torso, still curled there from after he had returned her favor at dinner time. His red hair and her gold hair swirled together on his chest, and his mate looked so peaceful that he was loathe to disturb her.

Still, he managed to slip out from under her, gently lowering her head onto a pillow and tucking the warm blankets around her bare body.

He had only managed to pull on his trousers before she felt her attach herself to his back, arms around his waist. He laughed and turned to face her as he said, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I wanted to get up,” she said. “I want to attend your meetings with you today.”

“You do?” Lucien asked, unable to fathom why _anyone_ would want to put themselves through that.

The negotiations with Kallias had been tedious. The High Lord of Winter seemed entirely unwilling to engage in the war at all, thanks to the influence of his High Priestess, Thalia, who urged against any engagement with Hybern. Lucien could hardly blame the High Priestess, who had not looked the least bit shocked when Lucien had delivered the news of Ianthe’s death. “I cannot celebrate the death of a sister,” the elegant priestess had said, “but Ianthe’s heart was not drawn to the Mother, nor to the good of Prythian--only her own good. I only pray that she returned to the Mother in those last moments and is now resting in eternal peace.”

Lucien thought he might like Thalia if it weren’t for the fact that she was working against his own goals. Unlike Ianthe, she really did seem to care about the wellbeing of the court, and Lucien would be lying if he said he didn’t see her point. Still, it irked him that Kallias was so keen to listen to her--High Lords lending their ear to High Priestesses had caused serious harm before.

Lucien only had to look at his mate to know that.

Masaru did what he could to help, but he could not actively oppose his uncle. Lucien could respect that, though it didn’t make these conversations any easier. “These meetings are dreadfully boring, pea,” he said, kissing Elain’s temple before shrugging on a shirt.

“You don’t want me there?” Elain asked, helping him button his shirt. He had to try very hard to ignore the fact that she was still naked.

“Of course I want you there,” Lucien said, snatching her hand in his and kissing her knuckles. “I’m just worried you would die of boredom.”

Elain raised her eyebrows. “I was raised around aristos. You don’t know boring until you must listen to mortal gossip for hours on end.”

Lucien shuddered. “Point taken.” Elain whirled her finger to get him to turn around and she ran a comb through his long hair. “No flowers today, please?” he teased. The last time he’d let her comb his hair, he’d ended up with flowers woven in so thoroughly that it had taken far too long to untangle them, and he’d almost been late to his meeting for the day. He was happy to wear her flowers any time, but others were not quite so accustomed to the look on him. Still, he closed his eyes and almost melted as she tended his hair, and though the end result looked rather dashing.

He watched as Elain adorned herself in her own high-waisted, large-sleeved Winter Court robes, which were white embroidered with light pink and green flowers. “You’re lovely,” he said as he stood and offered her his arm.

He led her down crystal corridors with arched ceilings to Kallias’s meeting hall, where the High Lord was already seated in his chair at the front of the room. The throne was not as grand as his formal one, nor was his crown quite so breathtaking, but the closed-off expression on his face made Lucien’s stomach sink. It would probably be much of the same today.

The newest addition to Kallias’s ensemble was a large tabby cat sprawled across his lap, which Kallias absently pet. It’s copper-green eyes surveyed the room, fixing on Lucien as its tail twitched. Akihiro, who sat beside his husband, looked at the cat with a look of betrayal on his face.

“Lord Kallias,” Lucien said, bowing. “I hope you don’t mind that Elain has joined us.”

Kallias raised his eyebrows. “She is your mate. You might as well be bringing along another part of yourself.”

Akihiro grinned. “Oh, Kal, I love it when you get romantic.” The Lord’s eyes followed the cat as it suddenly mewed and leapt off the High Lord’s lap toward Elain.

“Oh, hello,” Elain cooed, crouching to offer her hand to the cat’s inspection. The cat cocked its head and then rubbed its brow against her palm.

Akihiro let out a noise of disbelief. “Look, Kal--Sumiko actually _likes_ her.”

Even Kallias looked surprised. “Impressive.”

“How so?” Lucien asked. He’d seen the cat around before, but its behavior had never been cause for such attention.

Masaru laughed. “Sumiko hardly likes _anyone_. She tolerates Thalia and me, but there’s no one besides my uncles she actually _likes_. The damn thing is so entitled I’m half convinced she’ll become High Lady instead of me and just leave me the scraps to play with.”

Elain giggled as Sumiko mewed again. “She did look quite comfortable on that throne.”

“I can’t believe it,” Lord Akihiro said to the cat. “ _I’m_ the one who wanted you and you prefer his lap to mine. Now I have to share you with someone _else_?”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Elain said shyly.

Akihiro laughed and reclined in his seat. “Of course not. If Sumiko likes you, that’s a badge of honor. She’s an excellent judge of character.”

Kallias gestured for the proceedings to begin. “Where did we leave off yesterday?” he asked, already sounding bored.

“The same place we left off the day before, and the day before that,” Lucien said wryly.

“Then why are we still talking?” Kallias asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Because,” Lucien said tightly, “the fate of Prythian is at stake. I’ve seen too much chaos--went through _too damn much_ under that mountain to let everything fall apart again.”

“Everything isn’t falling apart,” Kallias said as Sumiko hopped up on his lap again. “The Winter Court will stay perfectly intact and we will stay out of the conflict.”

“The Winter Court is in the middle of Prythian,” Lucien protested. “There will be fighting on every side. With all due respect, Kallias, you’re a fool if you think that’s not going to bleed into your territory.”

Kallias’s fingers iced and his silver eyes flashed. “Watch that tongue of yours, prince.” Lucien managed not to flinch. This whole thing was made harder by the fact that he liked Kallias and Akihiro--or had, at one point. Winter Court had been his favorite place to travel when he was younger; it wasn’t too far from Orielle, and it had been a welcome break from the constant antagonism he found in his own home. Despite the cold brutality of Kallias in the negotiation room, he and his mate adored each other and their nephew, whom they’d raised--Masaru’s mother had died in childbirth, and his father in the War. Masaru was devoted to them in return. It was so different from what he’d known growing up that, for a while in his youth, the Winter Court had been a sanctuary for him. The only sign of the remembered history was Kallias’s continued use of Lucien’s former title, but there was little warmth to accompany it.

“We will weather the storm,” Kallias said. “That is what Winter Court is bred to do. We withstand, we endure, and we press on; but we do not go seeking turmoil . . . not anymore. We will wait until the storm passes, as we must to survive.”

“That’s what my sister and I wanted to do,” Elain said softly, though there was an edge to her voice. Lucien looked at her with surprise. “We tried to avoid the war. We invited my sister and her court in only so that they could prevent this war from happening, but even they could not prevent Hybern’s men from razing our home to the ground and taking us in the middle of the night . . . to turn us into this.” She gestured at her beautiful form. Even in Winter, the vines around her fingers thrived, and white flowers bloomed in her hair like a diadem. “I was once betrothed to a man whose father thought that iron walls and weapons would protect him from the war. I watched as mortal queens bargained away their humanity, hoping to prevent a war on the continent. But the war came anyway.” She took a deep breath and bit her pink lips just slightly before saying, “The war has come, High Lord. It will cross your borders before long. And I know I have been a guest here for mere days, but there is such beauty here . . . such peace, unlike anything I’ve witnessed in Prythian before. I would hate to see it destroyed because you missed your chance to act.”

Everyone’s eyes were fixed on Elain in astonishment. Lucien practically gaped at her in awe. She had nothing to go on but Lucien’s griping at the end of the day, and yet she’d been able to voice his arguments better than he had, even with centuries of practice. He could kiss her right here.

But instead he waited, scanning the faces of everyone in the room, wishing his metal eye could give him insight into what the High Lord was thinking.

Kallias sat back in his chair, stroking Sumiko, as his silver eyes rested on Elain, who did not look away from him. “I am honored that you see the beauty in my court,” he said. “But with respect, Princess Elain, you are new to Prythian. My court has sacrificed much for Prythian before--my younger brother died in the War, and I lost many to Amarantha when we attempted to rise against her. I cannot put my court through that loss again.”

“Kal,” Lord Akihiro said, his eyes still fixed on Elain. “The young thing may be right. This is a war. Life will be lost for us . . . but we may still yet choose whether that occurs as we stand against Hybern, or whether it comes to us in the dark of the night as we sleep.”

Kallias’s nostrils flared and he sucked in a breath, but he glanced at his husband. He said nothing, seeming to consider.

Akihiro continued, “Who is it, exactly, you are treating for, Prince Lucien? This is a matter that I am still unclear on.”

“As am I,” Princess Cresseida said from her own seat. Elain glared at her and a small snarl ripped from her lips. Akihiro chuckled.

“I am treating for Prythian,” Lucien said, and Cresseida scoffed. “You all know my history--perhaps better than any court.” He glanced at Masaru, who nodded solemnly. “Lord Tamlin was my High Lord and my friend, or so I thought. But he did not recover after Amarantha. Not like you did. I tried to be for him what you have with your family--support, loyalty--but his fear led him to betray us. He was willing . . . he was willing to let the world burn to keep High Lady Feyre at his side, and he brought Hybern to our shores. I could not stand by as he let innocents die.

“I now belong to no court,” he said, pausing to take a breath. It killed him-- _killed him_ \--to be homeless in such a way, which was why he threw himself into protecting as much as he could. He had no one court to serve, but he could still serve Prythian. “I do, however, belong to Prythian. So I am working with and treating for all those who wish to see peace in this land and to keep Hybern from poisoning it with his ambition and evil.” He looked to Cresseida. “I consider High Lord Tarquin an ally. The High Lord of Day has been aiding our cause. And High Lord Rhysand was the first to become aware of Hybern’s activity and has been working against him for months.”

A ripple of shock and anger burst through the room, and even Akihiro leaned back in his chair, his mouth a snarl. Lucien glanced at Masaru, who had gone pale. “ _Rhysand_?” Akihiro hissed. “Please tell me I am misunderstanding. Prince Lucien, are you really expecting us to ally with Rhysand?”

Kallias’s hands were fully iced over, and the magic was even starting to creep down the legs of his chair and across the floor. “You cannot possibly be ignorant of what Rhysand did to this court, Prince Lucien,” Kallias said, his voice low and deadly.

Lucien’s throat became tight. He knew. Of course he did. Masaru had contacted him in grief and desperation after it had happened, and Lucien had been ripped apart inside as he’d been unable to help his old friend in his time of grief. But Lucien understood the circumstances better now--it did nothing to amend the situation, nothing to bring back those two dozen younglings . . . but he had to stay. _Damn him_ , he had to try. “Rhysand was enslaved by Amarantha then. You know that as well as anyone. She was the murderer--Rhys’s magic was simply the tool.”

“Lucien,” Masaru said softly. “You know that doesn’t make one bit of difference.”

Elain was gripping Lucien’s hand. “Please tell me I’m not hearing this,” she murmured. “He didn’t . . . children?”

“Yes,” Kallias said, his voice as frozen as his fingers. “Children. _This court’s_ children. Two dozen gone, in a blink, as Rhysand crushed their minds.”

A tiny gasp broke from Elain’s mouth and her eyes glistened with tears. “I didn’t know,” she murmured. Lucien felt his heart breaking at her reaction, wished he could tell her it wasn’t true . . .

“It would be an abomination for this court to ally with Rhysand,” Akihiro said. The severity in his face and tone was such a stark contrast to his usual joviality that it made Lucien’s blood turn cold.

He heard Elain draw in a breath. “Then you refuse to ally with my sister, as well? With Feyre Cursebreaker? For she is the High Lady of the Night Court.”

Kallias and Akihiro glanced at each other. “This is news,” Kallias said.

“It is a recent development,” Lucien said quietly. “Lady Feyre, too, has innocent blood on her hands. An Autumn Court faerie and a Spring Court faerie. Amarantha forced her to murder them to save Prythian, and it still haunts her. And I can attest to the screams of the High Lord in the night as the actions he was forced to perform for Amarantha plague him. I do not in any way excuse what Rhysand did, nor would I ever expect you to forgive him for it. But he would tear himself limb from limb if it would save Prythian--if it would keep such things from ever happening again.”

“So would my sister,” Elain murmured. She swallowed. “Hybern would be worse. He would kill all of you, I know it. He . . .” her voice trembled, but she pressed on, “He delights in ripping things apart. And if he establishes himself as High King, he will destroy all of the High Lords, whether they opposed him or allied with him. He would not let any of you live as a reminder of the old world. High Lord Kallias . . . without your help, we’re _all_ dead.”

Elain’s breath came in shudders as she struggled to keep her composure, but she did not waver. She stood strong before the frozen court and pled for a land that did not belong to her, to whom she owed nothing.

For the first time today, Thalia spoke up from where she stood near the edge of the room. “I think it might be best to adjourn for a time,” she suggested. “Let us all go pray for the lost younglings, and allow the High Lord some time to consider.”

“A wise suggestion,” Masaru said, nodding to the High Priestess.

Lucien bowed to the High Lord and Lord and Elain did the same, and they slipped out of the meeting room to find some refuge in their own chambers.

Elain let her resolve crumble when the door clicked shut and tears slipped down her face. Lucien immediately gathered her in his arms and stroked her hair, letting her cry into his chest. “It’s so . . . it’s so terrible!” she cried. “ _Children_ , Lucien.”

“I know,” he murmured into her hair. He sank onto the couch and pulled her onto his lap, kissing her temple.

“I feel like I should hate him,” Elain said. “I should hate _anyone_ who could do such a thing. But I know him. He’s . . . he’s my brother, now, or as good as. I don’t understand how he could be so good, love my sister so deeply . . . and yet be capable of killing _children_.”

“When we were Under the Mountain,” Lucien said, “Amarantha had control over us to the smallest detail. If she had ordered us to slit our own throats, we would have had to do it. Rhys . . . he sacrificed more than anyone else down there--let the world think him the villain, her willing servant. I believed that for a long time. I won’t pretend I know the events of that day, but Rhys . . . if he could take it back and die in their place, I know he would have.”

Lucien marveled for a moment at the irony in _him_ defending Rhysand now, when he had been so eager once to declare the High Lord of Night an enemy. Despite Feyre, he still didn’t think he trusted or understood Rhys completely, and perhaps that was why he hadn’t accepted a place in their court. Still . . . he knew that Amarantha had corrupted everything, had used magic that wasn’t hers to destroy and torment. A small part of him knew what it was like to be forced to do things he hated, be a person he hated.

Elain said nothing, only tucked her cheek in closer to his chest, her delicate fingers gripping his tunic.

“You were amazing,” Lucien said warmly. “I have never seen anything like that before.”

“Really?” Elain whispered.

“Really. If I weren’t already inclined to bow at your feet, that would have convinced me.”

Elain pinched him. “Stop,” she muttered, though a ghost of a smile lifted her mouth.

“I mean it. I’m never negotiating without you again,” he said. “If it had been any other scenario, you would have had them wrapped around your finger.”

Elain giggled. “I _am_ good at that,” she said. She looked at him, her brown eyes still glassy but not forlorn. “Does that mean that if I told you to kiss me right now, you would?”

Lucien grinned. “You wouldn’t even have to ask.”

And he lowered his mouth to hers and lost himself kissing her until the gloom of the morning was banished from their hearts and their minds.


End file.
